Do not Stand at my Grave and Weep
by pygmypuff8
Summary: Harry tries to be brave, he really does.


**AN: Ok... Yeah... I kinda cried while writing this, didn't really mean for this to get so heavy, but yeah. Written for the Jigsaw Puzzle Challenge and the Hunger Games Training Stage Competition. Enjoy and please review!**

**Disclaimer: Everything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

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"_Seems like it was yesterday when I saw your face_

_You told me how proud you were but I walked away_

_If only I knew what I know today_

_Ooh ooh_

_I would hide you in my arms_

_I would take the pain away_

_Thank you for all you've done_

_Forgive all your mistakes"_

**Hurt by Christina Aguilera**

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Harry looked at the painfully thin woman lying on the hospital bed, her once radiant red hair dulled and brittle, with streaks of grey peppering the red. She was asleep now, released for a few hours from the hideous realisation that she's not going to live past fifty. Her hands lay peacefully at her side, not gripping the white coverlets as it did when she was awake to feel the pain, her face smooth except for the fine spider-webbing of wrinkles that came with age.

Harry heaved a sigh, lowering his head, which had quite a fair streaking of grey in it as well, into his hand, swallowing back tears that threatened to come with for the nth time. He couldn't cry, not yet. He had promised himself that he would be strong for Ginny, that he would not cry until she was- until she was-, he forced himself to think it, dead.

A stab of pain went through his heart, and he gasped, the slight sound of which drew the attention of a mediwitch, asking him if he was alright. He wanted to snap at her, to ask _how_ could he be alright when his _wife _was lying in St. Mungos, with stomach cancer that the mediwitches and wizards can't heal, because it was diagnosed too late. Instead, he nodded tiredly, and asked if he could get a cup of tea.

"Of course," the young woman, probably just out of school, said, hurrying of, blonde hair swinging behind her in a pony.

Smiling at the eagerness of youth, Harry looked down at his wife again, noticing that she had begun to toss around fitfully, her hands no longer laying calmly beside her but gripping the white sheets tightly.

Knowing that it was a sure sign of her waking up soon, he shook her gently awake, knowing that she would want to spend all the moments she wasn't peacefully asleep, with him and her children. "Ginny," he called softly, trying not to startle her, "wake up darling, so they can give you more pain medication."

Eyes fluttering open, Ginny looked confused for a second, before her eyes settled on his face and she said softly, weakly lifting her hand to put it against his cheek, "Harry, you're here."

Throat closing up, making it impossible for him to speak, he just nodded, placing his hand on top of hers on his cheek, and leaning into her hand. "Where's the children?" Ginny asked, looking around for James, Albus and Lily, who had gone home to get some rest, and James to put his children to bed.

Clearing his throat, Harry said hoarsely: "Albus and Lily went to their apartments to rest, and James to put his children to bed. He probably went to sleep after that too, the twins probably tired him out, little rascals," Harry grinned, remembering his two grandson's mischievous little smiles, right after they did something especially naughty.

"Oh, dear Remus and Sirius, they always were the naughtiest little things, even when they were barely two years old, shearing Hermione's cat, just before the poor old dear died. Poor old Crookshanks," a smile lighted up Ginny's features, remembering her grandsons antics.

Harry grinned as well, thinking about how indignant the old cat had looked when he had walked around Hermione and Ron's house with the fur gone from his body.

He quickly sobered though, when Ginny gave a pained gasp, her hand fluttering weakly to her stomach. He clenched his eyes shut, not wanting Ginny to see how hard it is for him not to cry, before looking around and lifting his arm to call the nearest mediwitch to ask for her pain medication.

Before he could attract the attention of one walking around the hall, however, he felt a light restraining hand on his arm, and looking down he saw Ginny's hand on his arm, shaking her head. He stared at her, confused, till she said: "I'm near, Harry. I want to be fully awake when I die, not half drugged."

Her words shocked Harry, who had still not given up a last shred of hope that Ginny would pull through. As the last sliver of hope slithered away, he couldn't keep a few tears from escaping his eyes, though he turned away his face.

Pulling his face toward her again, Ginny smiled tiredly, saying: "Don't cry, Harry, I've lived a full life, longer than I thought I would at times. I have seen all my children grown up, and I have seen and known at least two of my grandchildren, though I won't know them all."

The tears were flowing freely now, and Harry stopped trying to prevent her from seeing them. Looking into her eyes, he asked brokenly: "But what about me? What am I supposed to do now?"

Tssking gently, Ginny reminded him: "Don't be like that now, Harry. You still have your children, and grandchildren, and hopefully more to come. Don't waste the rest of your life mourning about me, I wouldn't want that, you know I wouldn't. Visit you children, play with your grandchildren, enjoy your friends and family, but don't grieve about me, I would hate it."

Throughout Ginny's speech, Harry had been silent, as he knew she was right, but still he couldn't help bursting out: "But I'll miss you! How am I supposed to survive in that house alone now? All the children have moved out, and I can't ask them to live with me."

"No," Ginny agreed, "you can't." Smoothing a lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes away, she said: "But you can sell the house. Or, if it holds too much memories, give it to James to raise his family there, so that it will know children's laughter and love again. Move to the room in the garden."

Harry just nodded silently, not willing to talk more about what would come after Ginny died.

The mediwitch with Harry's tea came and went, unnoticed by either of them.

They sat there for a while, Ginny gasping with pain every now and then, but refusing pain medication, until she fell silent against his chest, and Harry knew, with certainty, that she was gone.

He stood up, with dry eyes, too hurt to cry, closed her eyes, and went to inform his children of their mothers passing.


End file.
